


After School Special 1- Fear Gas

by octoaliencowboy



Series: Dicktiger After School Special [1]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Grayson (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Dick is trans btw, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, cons of having next to no tiger content: have no clue what his whole backstory is, fear gas fic boiii, fuck dc lives, in this house we completely ignore dc canon, pros of that: i get to completely make up my own backstory for him, that doesn’t have anything to do with the plot I just want you to know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 09:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16216583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoaliencowboy/pseuds/octoaliencowboy
Summary: When chance leads both Nightwing and the Tiger King of Kandahar to intercepting a shipment of stolen fear gas, the night goes south quickly.But maybe it was a good thing, in the end. Either way, Dick will always see Tiger in a different light from now on.





	After School Special 1- Fear Gas

**Author's Note:**

> yeah ive totally written tigers backstory from birth to present basically bc fuck dc lives i do what i want. and what about it?  
> I'm not saying you also have to like accept this backstory as canon in ur heart like i have but also, like, it is pretty stan worthy, I'll admit

Dick pulled himself up onto the roof of the loading docks’ security building, releasing the catch on his grapnel to make the cable _zipp_ back in. Two months ago, the Gotham Police Department came into possession of a massive amount of modified fear gas. A wannabe rogue had stolen it from Scarecrow.

 

He crouched behind the parapet and pulled out a pair of mini binoculars. He trained them on one of the many nearby warehouses, the only one with lights on inside.  The rogue tampered with the gas and tried to use it to terrorize the city. Luckily his plan was fairly weak and the man had been apprehended and the gas was taken to the GPD as evidence.

 

The warehouse was supposed to be abandoned, but Dick could have laughed--  warehouses in Bludhaven _or_ Gotham were never truly abandoned. If there wasn’t anything legal happening, then there was most certainly something a lot shadier going down inside. Like there was right now.

 

But then again, the GPD had more corrupt cops than honest ones. Within a few weeks, it was stolen by someone else entirely.

 

It soon resurfaced in Blüdhaven. And luckily Blüdhaven’s own resident vigilante wasn’t too busy and had agreed to secure the gas for the Bat, at least until Bruce was able to come collect it himself.

 

There was a deal going down that night with an unconfirmed buyer. Although Dick had a couple ideas who they might be.

 

Dick squinted his eyes, zooming in with the binoculars. There was another figure on another rooftop he couldn’t quite make out. But that silhouette was familiar-- the stance, the height, those broad shoulders, the fabric wrapped around the head. He knew exactly who that was. Dick made his way over to the other rooftop, going around the warehouse and staying out of sight. As he got closer he was able to make out more and more of the figure. The vigilante emerged from the shadows, and the other person sensed his presence immediately. They turned around and Nightwing smiled in greeting.

 

“Tony!” He said.

 

He was answered with a scowl. Dick grinned wider. He hadn’t expected to run into the Tiger King of Kandahar, of all people, on this fine evening but if anything it was a pleasant surprise. Having been promoted to patron he could have easily taken up a desk job, but the man still went out on the field nearly as much as he did when he was Agent One in lieu of sending other agents out. Probably for two major reasons-- Tiger wasn’t suited at all to a desk job, and he was the kind of guy who firmly believed in the notion that if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself. His new role didn’t seem to be doing him any favours, though. Tiger looked tired above all else. But he was doing an alright job of hiding it. Anyone other than Dick probably wouldn’t have noticed the hints of exhaustion in the tense line of Tiger’s shoulders or the hard lines his frown caused in his face.

 

“Nightwing.” Tiger grumbled, turning back to the warehouse. Dick sauntered up next to the man, bumping him with his hip. Oh, this night was going to be _so_ much more fun than he originally thought.

 

“What are the odds we’re here for the same thing?”

 

“High,” Tiger said. “There’s an arms deal about to go down in there, some kind of chemical weapon. I’m here to find out what they’re selling, to who, and why.”

 

Dick hummed.“Well I don’t know about who or why, but I do know _what_.”

 

Tige rose an eyebrow at him, and Dick continued.

 

“Modified scarecrow fear gas. It was stolen from the GPD a while ago and B-man tracked it down to here. I’m here to secure it until Bats can come get it.”

 

Tiger scowled. “Fear gas? That may complicate things. I will help you.”

 

Dick looked at the spy in surprise. “Really? But you’re doing recon. And it’s gonna get pretty messy in there.”

 

Below, it looked like the deal was about to start. They were running out of time to chit-chat.

 

Tiger shrugged, tucking his miniature binoculars away and got ready to head down. “I’ve long since learned I cannot stop you, Nightwing, so I may as well help you. At least then I still have control over the fallout, and I can still get the information I need.”

 

Dick nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

 

They entered the building through a small door off to the side, concealed in shadows. Their footsteps were inaudible on the concrete of the echoey warehouse. It was very large and a little empty, the only things in there were the nine crates of fear gas in the middle of the floor, being guarded by eleven henchman. Standing among them was a stout man in a nice suit, undoubtedly their boss. He was far from a grade A crook, barely a threat in the big picture, but one less drug lord running free was good to Dick. He and Tiger crept forward, still unnoticed in the shadowy corners of the warehouse. In the back of his mind dick noticed, a little annoyed, that the crates were put in a stack of four, a stack of three and a stack of two instead of three _even_ stacks of three.

 

As soon as Dick and Tiger stepped out of the shadows they were spotted by the boss. The man pulled out a gun and fired four “warning” shots in their direction. His aim was poor and the spy-vigilante duo dodged easily. Dick had to roll out of the way of one bullet that hit the floor dangerously close.  Dick and Tiger were running now.

 

“What are you doing just standing there? Kill them!” Commanded the boss with a point of his finger. Seven of the henchmen rushed them, and the fighting started for real.

 

The first henchman to reach Tiger threw a right hook that the spy ducked under laughably easily. None of the goons seemed to be polished fighters in the least. They were just a bunch of men with a lot of muscle and no skill. This would hardly even be a challenge. Tiger kicked out a leg and knocked the henchman off his feet. He slammed into the ground hard, passing out on impact. That was the problem with being as big as that-- because the bigger you were the harder you hit the ground when you fall.

 

He elbowed a second goon in the face and the man’s nose broke with a sickening crunch. He reeled back, holding his face that was now spurting blood. Tiger took the moment of distraction to kick another henchman in the stomach and aim his gun at his head.

 

In the next split second of a moment Tiger found his gaze drifting over to Dick.  The vigilante was preoccupied fighting his own quadruplet of henchman, ducking and blocking and landing blows of his own with his escrima sticks. He did not turn around to return the eye contact. Tiger looked back to the goon he’d kicked, still bent double, and changed his aim for the man’s knee instead.

 

At the sound of the gun firing Dick whipped his head around in the same movement that he threw a henchman over his shoulder. He was worried Tiger had just killed the guy. But he hadn’t, and Dick went back to his own fistfight glad that no one would be dying tonight.

 

Dick knocked down another two henchmen with an escrima blow to the jaw and head respectively. He aimed a side kick at the third but the goon caught his foot and pulled. Dick used the momentum to flip over, hitting the goon in the side of the head with his other foot while he spun in the air.

 

The boss let out a wordless yell of frustration. He sent three more of his henchmen after them and all three went straight for Nightwing. Tiger went straight for the boss.

 

One of the henchmen managed to come up behind Nightwing while he was focusing on taking down the two men in front of him. The henchman grabbed him, hoisting the vigilante up on his shoulders and throwing him into a stack of the crates. Aside from maybe a couple bruises on his back Dick was fine, but one the crates smashed open on impact. The cans rolled everywhere. Dick held his breath. He watched the cans for a second, worried they’d burst open and ruin everything. But after a moment of nothing happening, he relaxed and jumped back into the fray. They’d just have to be wary of those loose cans.

 

Tiger charged at the boss as he and his last guard made a run for it. He took out the guard’s knees with two precise bullets. The guard fell to the ground screaming clutching his legs in pain. Tiger ran right past him.

 

The boss stopped a few feet from the door, pulling out his gun and aiming at Tiger again. The trigger clicked but nothing happened. The gun was jammed. The boss threw it to the side in a panic and made a second dash for the door.

 

Tiger lunged at the boss before he could get far at all. He threw him into the ground and roughly pulled his hands behind his back. Snapped on a pair of cuffs. Dragged him back to the center of the warehouse where dick was securing the last of the now-all-unconscious goons.

 

Tiger called in for some backup agents to come collect the crooks. Dick sent a message to Batman letting him know the gas was secured and ready to be picked up. While they waited for them to arrive, he and Dick went about getting all the scattered cans of fear gas together. Tiger considered the can he held in his hand for a minute, turning it over and inspecting it a little closer than they had yet the opportunity to. The cans had all been disguised as spray paint, with a nozzle on top and with a fake label. Clever. He wondered what the plan had been for these. Ah well, they’d get it out of the goons eventually during interrogation. The mission had been a success. It should have been fairly simple.

 

 _Should_ being the operative word, here.

 

It wasn’t long after Tiger’s agents appeared that the can in his hand exploded in his face. It made a bang so loud that for a second everyone in the warehouse thought a gun had gone off. Whether it was an accident or sabotage, they didn’t know. But the minute the gas was released everyone in the room immediately leaped into action.

 

Dick’s heart raced as he ran to Tiger’s side.The man was bent over double. His hands clenched on his knees. His face drawn and pale. He was trying to control his breathing. Dick predicted he’d enter the panic stage soon. That is, if this fear gas acted the same way it usually did. They had to keep in mind this version had been tampered with. There was really no telling what would happen next.

 

The busted can laid at their feet, empty, all the gas already released directly into Tiger’s face.

 

A couple of the Spyral agents ran over attempting to retrieve Tiger, but Nightwing stopped them.

 

“We have to get him back to HQ,” they said.

 

“No,” Dick said, keeping a tight grip on Tiger’s arm. Who, if he did hear them talking over his head, didn't acknowledge them. “You can’t. His heart might give out before you even get there. I can help him back at my own base, and he’ll be back before you even know it. I promise.”

 

The agent Dick was talking with seemed to consider this for a moment, casting a glance down to the struggling patron. It only took a second for her to make up her mind.

 

“Fine, Nightwing. Help him. But I expect him to check in within the next twenty-four hours.”

 

Dick agreed. The agents went on with their business. He turned back to his own task. He helped Tiger stumble away from the can and into a seated position against one of the crates. He pulled out a mini flashlight, checking the spy’s pupils and his pulse.

 

It was accelerating at worryingly fast speeds.

 

Tiger’s face was getting paler than it should, and his breathing was becoming more laboured. His gaze drifted over Dick’s shoulder.

 

“Hey-- hey Tiger!” Dick barked, snapping his fingers to get Tiger’s attention again. It worked, and the vigilante started talking.

 

“You still with me, Tig? Can you hear me?”

 

Tiger groaned.

 

“Yes,” he said hoarsely. Dick breathed a sigh of short-lived relief. At least he was responsive.

 

“Can you see me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Okay, good. You’ve been hit with a new strand of fear gas, so anything you’re seeing or hearing right now that you don’t think you should be isn’t real, okay? You’re gonna be fine. Alright?”

 

“I _know_ that.” Tiger growled.

 

Dick sighed as he pulled Tiger to his feet. “Yeah, okay, maybe so, but there’s no telling when the rational part of your brain is gonna give out so I would appreciate it if you could just _cooperate_ , please.”

 

Other than general shakiness, Tiger’s legs seemed to work alright. With some assistance from another agent, Dick was able to get him out of the warehouse and onto his bike.

 

It was a little tricky to drive with Tiger sitting in front of him, the man being that much taller than Dick, and it didn’t help that he had to drive one handed with his other arm clutching around Tiger’s waist. It was still the most secure option, though. Dick didn’t trust Tiger’s arms to keep a secure enough grip on him to keep himself from falling off. It was a tense ride. Dick drove way more over the speed limit then he normally did as as a vigilante, and he almost paid the price a couple of times by barely avoiding crashing into a lamppost going around the corner. He wondered if Tiger could feel the racing of his _own_ heart against his back, or if he was already too out of it to feel much of anything. Nevertheless they made it to Dick’s apartment without incident. It just happened to be closer than his safehouse, and was probably better stocked anyway. Hopefully there would be something there that could help Tiger, at least until Dick sent a blood sample to the batcave and asked for an antidote in return, as soon as possible.  

 

By the time they got there, Tiger’s heart rate had slowed considerably to a much safer bpm. Dick wasn’t sure what it meant. Getting him up the stairs was about as difficult as anticipated, considering the guy was over six feet and over two hundred pounds of pure muscle. Tiger collapsed onto the couch immediately and Dick scrambled to see that he hadn’t passed out. Once he was sure Tiger was still conscious and going to stay that way, he placed a call to the batcave.

 

_“Hello, master Dick. Is everything alright?”_

 

Dick almost smiled at the sound of Alfred’s voice.

 

“I’ve got a fear gas situating over here, Alf.” He said. “I’m sending a blood sample your way and I need an antitoxin asap.”

 

 _“Goodness,”_ said Alfred on the other end _. “Are you—“_

 

“I’m fine, it’s my friend that needs help.”

 

Dick shot a glance at the man lying on the couch. His eyes darted around the room, watching things that weren’t really there. But he seemed at least relatively calm, if not tense.

He heard Alfred sigh over the phone.

 

_“I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”_

 

“Thank you, Alfred.” Dick sighed. He hung up and turned back to the couch. He noticed Tiger brushing himself and the surface of the cushions off, even though, as far as Dick could see, there was nothing there.

 

It would be fine. Everything would be _fine_. All Dick had to do now was keep an eye on the man until Alfred arrived with the anti-toxin. Thirty minutes wasn’t that long to wait. He could handle it. It would be fine.

 

So far it had seemed like Tiger was doing an alright job keeping himself in check-- although Dick knew it wouldn’t last long. Having the chemicals in his system was obviously physically taxing for Tiger. He’d been struggling to remain in complete control for long enough already, and Dick could tell it was slipping. The hallucinations were getting more intense.

 

“Fuck, Grayson-- there’s blood everywhere!”

 

_Yeah._

 

“Whose-- Richard, do you know whose blood this is? I can’t tell, there’s so much…”

 

Dick walked back around to the front of the couch and into Tiger’s line of sight, intent on calming or comforting the other man, but it had the opposite effect.

 

Tiger gasped in horror and leapt off the couch upon seeing Dick. He almost crashed into the coffee table in the process of stumbling over to him. He grabbed Dick’s shoulders in a tight, white-knuckled grip. Dick failed to hide his wince, but Tiger didn’t seem to notice.

 

“Richard, _no_ \-- it’s _your_ blood! You’re injured! Dick… oh, god…” Tiger gasped, gaze landing on Dick’s chest. He looked like he was going to be sick, voice and hands trembling madly. Dick took hold of the man’s shaking hands, to ease their grip and to steady them, but Tiger didn’t react.

 

“Allahu Akbar, Grayson… where has your heart gone! Who did this to you?”

 

Dick didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure what to do. Fear toxin had never affected anyone quite like this before. Usually it was panic attacks, fight or flight, unhinged screaming, not--not this. But this fear toxin had been heavily tampered with. There was no precedent for this.

 

And… it was always frightening to see someone you cared about at a low you had never witnessed before. Dick had to force himself to push the rising sense of helplessness down, even when it pulled his throat tight and cause something in his chest and legs to tense up— he never knew exactly what muscle it was that did that in times like these. The only other time Dick had ever seen Tiger in a state remotely similar to this had been when Alia… when they _thought_ she had been killed. And even then Tiger’s emotions hadn’t been directed at him. The full force of them now was almost too much for Dick to handle.

 

Fear gas displayed one’s worst fears. Dick wondered what Tiger’s hallucinations meant. Dick was suddenly painfully aware of how little he knew this man.

 

Suddenly something, some sort of realization surfaced in Tiger’s eyes.

 

“Oh no… Dick, no… no no no no no _no_ … did I… _I_ did this?”

 

Tiger looked stricken, staring down at his own hands in guilt-laced anguish. There was nothing on them.

 

“Tiger… Tiger, talk to me. Can you hear me?” Dick pressed, ducking his head to try and catch Tiger’s eyes. It worked, and Tiger nodded. Dick was glad he had thought to take off his mask earlier. Fear gas always came up with something _creative_ with masks.

 

“Alright Tiger, now you have to help me. Remember, I can’t see what you’re seeing right now, so if we want to fix this then we have to work together. Understand?”

 

Another nod. Dick figured that at the moment, the best way to keep Tiger calm would be to go along with whatever was happening in Tiger’s mind. It might help him to feel like he was more in control of the situation. Hopefully, Tiger would cooperate.

 

Good thing Alfred would be here soon.

 

“Tiger, what do you have in your hands right now?” Dick asked. Tiger shuddered.

 

“It’s... your heart. This was a selfish act… what right do I have to take this? You need this-- this is the source of all your goodness. If you were _ruined_ and it was _my_ fault-- I could not live with myself.”

 

Dick let out a long breath. “Okay… okay. It’s okay. I know a guy who can fix this. He’s a skilled surgeon and he’ll be here soon. Don’t worry. Until then, we’ll just, uh... put my heart in the fridge, for safe keeping. Is that alright?”

 

Tiger stared at him for a moment, and Dick worried his consciousness had slipped even more and he couldn’t hear him anymore. But then Tiger nodded, and carefully made his way over to the fridge.

 

Dick sighed again. It was going to be a long half hour.

 

Tiger carefully placed the imaginary heart in the fridge. He did it with more care or gentleness than Dick had ever seen, and if it weren’t for the fear gas situation then he would have been a little touched. That was _his_ hallucinated heart Tiger was handling with such tenderness.

 

For a good minute after shutting the fridge door Dick watched Tiger as Tiger stared at his own hands. Dick was waiting for the other shoe to drop, because Tiger wasn’t very manic yet, he seemed more spaced out than anything else, limbs running on autopilot, but that could change at any moment.

 

Tiger then shuffled over from the fridge towards the sink. He turned the tap on, full blast, lukewarm water. He started washing his hands. Dick leaned against the counter next to him, still watching. Tiger grabbed the soap and scrubbed, muttering all the while about blood. Dick watched until Tiger started to scrub his hands raw, the skin of his palms turning red. Dick decided that was enough before Tiger actually hurt himself.

 

“Okay, cool your jets, Lady Macbeth.” Dick said, placing a hand on Tigers arm to still his motions. Tiger just glared at him.

 

“I have to get all the blood off!” He barked. He glanced back down at Dicks chest. “We need to clean all the blood off you, too.”

 

Dick shook his head. “Later. Okay? We can do that later.”

 

Tiger frowned. “We have to sweep the floor, too.”

 

“Why do we have to do that? Remember, I can’t see what you’re seeing, but I’m trying to help. Describe it to me.”

 

Tiger wiped his hands on the dishcloth, eyes wandering around the apartment. “There is rubble… on every surface there is dust and rubble. The windows are covered in black tape.”

 

“What else?” Dick asked.

 

“The blood. You’re soaked in it. It’s dripping all over the floor.”

 

“Well, that’s not so bad.” Dick gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “We can clean all that no problem. We’ve handled worse than a little blood before.”

 

Tiger just looked at him, with a bewildered look as if he were trying desperately to figure something out but couldn’t. His eyebrows drew together and up and a frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. It would have been a familiar expression were it not for the confusion. Once again Dick could only fathom what it meant.

 

Suddenly Tiger jumped as if startled by a sudden noise. He looked up, all the blood draining from his face. His head whipped around the apartment, looking for something. He didn’t seem to find it.

 

“Grayson, do you have a basement?” He demanded.

 

“No.” Dick shook his head. Even in the moments where the two of them as spies had been certain they were mere seconds from death, Dick had never seen fear in his partner’s eyes such as he did now. Tiger let out a shuddering breath and pressed the heel of his palms to his eyes like Dick had just told him the worst news he ever could have.

 

“Come on, then!” Tiger grabbed Dick’s wrist and dragged him down to the end of the hall where there was a closet full of cleaning supplies. Tiger wrenched the door open, breathing a sigh of relief at the spaciousness of it. Dick hadn’t seen the point of having a cleaning closet that big when he’d moved in, but he was grateful for it now if only because it was making this easier.

 

“Tiger, what is it?” Dick asked as Tiger started to push the contents of the closet out onto the floor of the hallway. “What do you hear?”

 

Tiger didn’t acknowledge him. “Get in!” He shoved Dick into the closet before squeezing in with him and slamming the door shut.

 

When Dick said ‘a closet that big’ he meant one that wasn’t literally the size of a matchbox. It could barely fit two grown men, especially not ones of Dick and Tiger’s size or bulk. Tiger didn’t seem to care, he was preoccupied about other things. Like whatever he believed to be going on on the other side of that door. Tiger wrapped himself completely around Dick, pulling him close and tight in his arms and curling himself protectively around the smaller man. Like he was shielding him.

 

Dick could feel Tiger’s heart pounding even through the layers of armour and fabric they both wore, and suddenly he was concerned about how much longer Tiger’s body would be able to put up with the constant changes in heart rate. They stayed like that for a few minutes. Tiger would flinch and shudder every so often unprompted. Dick’s heart went out to him. As much as the other man was a mystery, Dick did know that he grew up in wartime Afghanistan. It couldn’t have been easy.

 

Soon Tigers hallucination passed. His heartbeat slowed down again and he released Dick from his grip, stepping cautiously back out of the closet. He glanced down to Dick’s chest and frowned.

 

“Did I hurt you?”

 

Dick shook his head. “I’m okay Tiger, I swear.” He said. “And so are you. You’re safe here, understand?”

 

Tiger didn’t respond and Dick grabbed the man’s face in his hands, forcing him to look into his eyes. In that moment, nothing was more important to Dick than making sure Tiger knew that. “You. Are. _Safe_ . I promise, nothing will hurt you here. Do you _understand_?”

 

Slowly, without breaking the eye contact, Tiger nodded. He reached up and grabbed Dick’s hands, pulling them away from his face but not letting go when they were off either. Instead he rubbed little circles on Dick’s palms with his thumbs. Dick swallowed heavily, unsure what to do next. Tiger’s eyes drooped and he swayed slightly in place as if he were about to keel over in exhaustion.

 

“Do you wanna lay down for a bit?” Dick asked, voice low.

 

“Yes,” Tiger mumbled. Dick led him by the hands away from the closet and towards the bedroom.

 

As soon as Dick opened the door and Tiger caught sight of the bed he halted, refusing to budge another inch.

 

“I can’t sleep here.” He said. Dick looked at him, confused.

 

“What? Why not?”

 

“I simply can’t. I can’t and I won’t. I’ll sleep on the couch instead.” He marched out and back down the hall, Dick trailing behind him. When Tiger reached the couch he thoroughly dusted off every surface until he was satisfied that all the invisible rubble was cleared away before lying down on his side.

 

“Do you want a blanket?” Dick asked.

 

“No.”

 

Dick stood in the silence for another awkward moment, then spoke again.

 

“Do you want some company?”

 

Another pause, then Tiger said “Yes.”

 

So Dick rounded the back of the couch to sit cross legged on the floor by Tiger’s head. He propped one elbow up on his knee and rested his head on his hand, watching the spy before him carefully. Dick still wasn’t sure if it was safe for Tiger to sleep. He needed to keep an eye out in case anything started to go wrong. Tiger kept his gaze firmly off to the side and away from Dick’s face.

 

A minute passed like that. Just as Tiger’s breathing started to even out his gaze drifted up and to the side. His eyes widened and his breathing picked up, and his knuckles turned white fast where his hands were clenching tight into fists.

 

“Hey-- Tiger!” Dick said, moving to block the other man’s vision from whatever he was seeing. “Look at me. Okay? Don’t look over there, just look at me. You’re safe remember? You’re safe.”

 

Dick grabbed the side of Tiger’s face again before his eyes could start to drift back over to whatever new nightmare the fear gas had introduced.

 

“You’re safe, Tiger.” Dick whispered. “Whatever you’re seeing right now, I won’t let it hurt you. Trust me, okay? Do you trust me?”

 

Tiger sighed, closing his eyes. “I didn’t want to.” He mumbled.

 

The fatigue took him over then, and he dropped off to sleep. Dick held his breath for a minute, watching Tiger’s pulse, terrified to death that the man’s heartbeat would just drop until it didn’t beat at all. It didn’t do that, though. The spy’s heart went as steady as it had yet all evening, and his breathing evened out in the characteristic way of deep slumber. Dick couldn’t relax, though. He wouldn’t be able to relax until Alfred arrived with the anti-toxin.

 

Several minutes passed. Outside of Dick’s stressed out mind, it was peaceful. Until Tiger started screaming.

 

He must have been saying something, but Dick couldn’t make out the words. He didn’t know the language.

 

“Tiger! _Tiger!_ ”

 

The screaming stopped abruptly when Dick shook Tiger awake. The man bolted upright on the couch, panting, wild eyes darting around the living room. Searching for something.

 

“Tiger?” Dock promoted cautiously, wary of the sudden silence. “Can you hear me?”

 

“Grayson.” Tiger said in response. His voice was full of pain. The bags under his eyes were deep. His gaze was haunted. Dick shivered, reminding himself Alfred would be there any minute. He hated to see his friend like this.

 

“Where is my sister?”

 

Dick blinked, caught outrageously off guard. “What?”

 

“ _Where is she!_ ” Tiger roared suddenly, shoving Dick away and into the coffee table. Dick failed to hide a wince at were the edge dug into his bruises from earlier. “Where!”

 

“I don’t know, Tiger!” Dick cried. “I don’t know where your sister is!”

 

Tiger snarled, dropping to his knees in front of Dick.

 

Tiger yelled, “She could be in danger!”, grabbing Dick by the shoulders for the second time that night and shaking him. “What if something happens? We need to find her!”

 

“Tiger--” Dick started, only to be cut off by the man who was nearing hysterics. There were tears welling up in his eyes, and the sight caused an unknown, unwelcome feeling to pool in Dick’s gut.

 

“Grayson, please, we _have_ to find her,” Tiger begged. “I can’t raise the baby alone. I can’t-- I need her!”

 

Before Dick could say anything else, Tiger deflated like a slashed tire. He slumped forward, burying his face in Dick’s neck. Slowly, oh so slowly, Dick wrapped his arms around Tiger’s trembling shoulders and held him tight.

 

“I just want my sister back…” Tiger whispered miserably.

 

“Shh, I know, I know.” Dick whispered back.

 

“I miss her.”

 

“I know.”

 

They stayed like that for Dick didn’t know how long. It probably lasted no more than a minute, but the seconds seemed to drag on for days. The moment was interrupted when the door buzzer suddenly sounded throughout the apartment. Dick was forced carefully extract himself from the embrace even though he wanted to keep holding Tiger as long as the man needed. Dick left Tiger sitting on the carpet to check the door. It was Alfred. Dick let him in.

 

“Good news, Tiger-- the surgeon is here.” Dick said as Alfred silently handed him the antidote. He walked over to the spy. Crouching down next to him slowly he stabbed the needle into Tiger’s neck.

 

The anti-toxin was injected in less than a split second. Tiger answered the attack with a shout and struggled for a moment before ultimately falling back onto the couch, passed out.

 

Dick let out his heaviest sigh yet, pushing himself to his feet and going to clean the needle. Alfred followed.

 

“A ‘thank you’ would be nice.” Alfred said, raising an eyebrow into a classic Alfred expression. Dick laughed a bit in response, but it was dry and hurt his throat. He didn’t really have the energy to feel humour just then.

 

“Thank you, Alfred.” Dick said, smiling at the older man and meaning it from the bottom of his heart. Alfred nodded, casting a brief glance at the passed out spy on the couch.

 

“So, who exactly _is_ that gentleman over there?”

 

Dick shrugged. “The Tiger King of Kandahar is what people call him. He’s the director of Spyral and--”

 

“No, I meant,” Alfred said, cutting Dick off. “Who is he to you?”

 

“He’s…” Dick said, “a friend.” His own hesitation caught him by surprise. There was no reason for him to hesitate in declaring their friendship, was there? They’d known each other for years, they’d fought side by side far more than they’d fought against each other. And especially after tonight there shouldn’t have been any doubt. But for some reason in that moment the word ‘friend’ didn’t feel right to Dick.

 

Any further conversation that would have followed after that was interrupted by the sound of Tiger waking up. Alfred gave Dick a heavy, knowing look. But whatever it was that Alfred knew or thought he knew, Dick had no idea. The look was dropped as quickly as it had appeared. The butler started moving about in the kitchen.

 

“While I’m here I may as well make something for you both to eat,” Alfred insisted before Dick could protest in any way, shape or form. “Goodness knows the last time you had a proper meal, master Dick. Also, Batman has secured all the fear gas. He is not happy that you left it alone with a number of Spyral agents.”

 

Dick grunted, “‘M too tired to care right now. He’s got it, it’s all fine now. I had more urgent things to take care of.” He left Alfred to sort through what little ingredients he had in the fridge, instead checking on Tiger.

 

“Hey bud,” He said softly, leaning on the back of the couch. “How you feeling?”

 

Tiger grunted and gave no further response. He didn’t make any move to get up from the couch, content to lay there for the rest of his days. Dick was fine with that. Fear gas really did a number on you, and after it was finished it was common for one to feel like hot garbage.

 

In the kitchen, Alfred was turning on the stove.

 

“Alf is making some food, because he’s a mother hen like that-- and I’m pretty sure if you don’t check in with Spyral by tomorrow morning they’ll assume I killed you.” Dick said with a mild chuckle. Again, there was no verbal response, but he knew Tiger got it.

 

He went back to the kitchen to see if Alfred needed any help. Alfred asked him if he really wanted to jeopardize setting his own apartment on fire like that. Dick got the message and left to go and finally change out of his costume.

 

Which is of course when Tiger stood up and made a break for the window on wobbly legs. His plan was to leave the apartment as discreetly as possible so he wouldn’t have to face Dick again after what was probably the most embarrassing thirty minutes of his life. Tiger wasn’t sure of his memories, and whether or not it had really happened, but if what he thought happened _did_ happen... it better not have.

 

Unfortunately this plan was foiled immediately by the butler. He seemed to have eyes on the back of his head.

 

“And where do you think you’re going?”

 

Tiger froze with one leg out the window. He looked back at the butler in the kitchen, who was looking at him with a single unimpressed raised eyebrow. He considered his options.

 

Based on what he’d heard from Dick, this Alfred Pennyworth figure was not someone to be trifled with. If it came down to it, Tiger was confident he could beat the old man in a fight despite his own weakened state. But he also doubted it would get that far. He could ignore Alfred and leave anyway. But Alfred would alert Dick and there was no way _Dick_ would let him leave. Tiger doubted he could win in a fight between him and Grayson right then.

Carefully, still holding the butler’s gaze, Tiger slid his leg back into the apartment and closed the window. Alfred nodded and turned back to the stove.

 

Tiger sighed, feeling the aching soreness of his entire body hyper-intensely for a split second before it passed back into a more bone-deep ache. He made his way into the kitchen as well, dropping heavily into a chair at the table. No matter how embarrassed he was, leaving then was a bad idea anyway. He wouldn’t get far before Dick inevitably found him and dragged him back to mother hen him some more. For the time being, he would just have to tough it out. But if Grayson tried to get him to talk about his _feelings_ , he would split, no hesitation.

 

When Dick reemerged in his civvies he found both Tiger and Alfred in silence in the kitchen, Tiger sitting at the table, as grumpy as ever. Dick took it as a good sign. He joined Tiger at the kitchen table with a smile and was met with a comforting glare. It seemed they were already back to their usual dance.

 

Alfred made pasta. It was the only thing Dick had in his kitchen that he had deemed even possible to make, along with a single can of premade tomato sauce, and some who-knows-how-old garlic. But he really, really hadn’t had a lot to work with. The state of Dick’s kitchen was appalling. In his fridge was a jar of nutella, twelve avocados (they’d been on sale), a lone onion, and almost thirty 250ml cartons of milk. The only things left in his cupboard now that the pasta had been eaten was stale cereal and Mr. Noodles.

 

It wasn't the greatest meal ever, but they were still grateful. Dick didn’t even have the energy to be embarrassed about the sparseness.

 

After Alfred left, Tiger sent a brief message to the necessary people at Spyral so that they wouldn’t come and bust down Dick’s door later. After that he looked around for a more private space to think, but Dick’s apartment was tiny and there was nowhere to go maybe save locking himself in the bathroom. Which Tiger really didn’t want to do. A bathroom was the kind of place you needed to keep clean, and based of what he’d already seen Tiger had zero confidence in Dick’s ability to do so. He wasn’t too keen on locking himself in Dick’s room, either. Soon Tiger came to the conclusion that the only good place to go to to be alone would be outside.

 

Out of the corner of his eye Dick spotted Tiger climbing gingerly out the window and onto the fire escape. He frowned. Over dinner he’d managed to convince the guy to stay the night, take a few hours to rest and recuperate before gallivanting back off to wherever-he-spent-his-time again. And now he was leaving anyway? Not only was it really not in Tiger’s best interests to travel then, but Dick didn’t exactly _want_ Tiger to leave, either. Dick followed him outside.

 

Turned out Tiger hadn’t gotten far, or even tried to run off at all. He was just sitting on the roof, looking out at the bright lights of the city. Dick took a liberty and sat himself next to the spy, legs dangling in the air. Tiger didn’t seem to acknowledge his presence, which Dick found strange. Not even a glare or a grunt. His expression was just passive, as if he hadn’t the energy to be angry about Dick’s presence. Dick said nothing. He figured if he was going to intrude on Tiger’s private moment he would at least uphold the silence the other man preferred.

 

Eventually it was Tiger who broke the silence first.

 

“This city reminds me of you.”

 

Dick looked at the man in surprise. “How so?”

 

 _'Full of life',_   he didn't say.

 

“It’s horrible, bright, noisy, obnoxious…” Tiger looked at him out of the corner of his eye, his original serious expression replaced by a growing smirk. Dick had to laugh. He hadn’t had anyone to engage in good banter with in a while, and it was refreshing as hell.

 

He took a minute to really _look_ at Tiger. The man was visibly exhausted, and probably still feeling the effects of being churned through an emotional meat grinder. The circles under his eyes were still dark and suggested that he hadn’t been sleeping well long before the night’s unfortunate incident, and he was still a little paler than normal. A proper night of rest would do him good.

 

“How are you feeling?” Dick asked.

 

“Fine.” Tiger lied.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“ _No_.”

 

“Okay.”

 

It took less than a minute for Dick to speak again.

 

“I didn’t know you had a sister.”

 

“I _just said_ I don’t want to talk about it.” Tiger snapped.

 

“I know, I’m sorry.” Dick said. He didn’t attempt to push the conversation further again.

 

He didn’t have to.

 

“Her name was Laila.”

 

“I thought you said you didn’t want to talk about it.” Dick said with a smirk of his own.

 

“I know!” Tiger hissed. “But I am. Besides, I know you won’t leave me alone until I do, so I might as well get it over with.”

 

That wasn’t true and they both knew it. Despite Dick’s penchant for nosiness, he knew how to respect limits. But Tiger was still _willingly_ talking about his past. Something that Dick didn’t think would ever happen in a million years. So he wasn’t about to argue.

 

“Was your sister older or younger?” Dick prompted gently.

 

“Older,” Tiger said, voice strained like some invisible force was dragging the words out of him. “By five years. And when our mother abandoned us Laila was the one who protected and cared for us.”

 

Dick have him a sad look— like he really understood— and for a moment Tiger felt a flash of anger run searing hot through his veins. Like Dick could never _understand_ , no one could-- until he remembered guiltily that Grayson, too, had suffered tremendous loss.

 

“You must miss her a lot.” Dick said. Tiger had to turn his gaze away, suddenly unable to look the other man in the eye. There was something else swimming in them now, alongside the sadness and the understanding, and it was making Tiger _feel_ something that he knew he could name if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to. So he didn’t name it.

 

“Deeply.”

 

Then Tiger said something that he had come to realize some time ago, but truly never thought he would ever utter out loud, least of all to _this_ particular living soul.

 

“I see a lot of her in you.”

 

Dick had nothing to say in response to that. Tiger was glad. Even if he wanted to, there was no way he could elaborate on that, out loud, to Dick.

 

In fact, neither of them said anything for another long couple of minutes, until Tiger broke the silence for the second time that night. What had gotten into him?

 

“What exactly did happen tonight?” Asked Tiger. He saw Dick smile in his peripheral vision.

 

“If you’re wondering if you really did spend eight minutes--I counted--trying to wash nonexistent blood off your hands in the kitchen sink. And then got mad at me when I said ‘cool your jets, lady Macbeth’ then yes that did happen,” Dick said. Even though Tiger was still glaring down into the alley below, he could hear the laughter in Dick’s voice.

 

Tiger’s frown deepened. “That’s not what I meant, you idiot.”

 

All humour left Dick then, too. He sighed.

 

“You mentioned a baby.”

 

Tiger let out a heavy sigh of his own.

“Nazdana,” he said. “Laila’s daughter. My niece. It was almost twenty years ago, now, but I still remember the day she was born like it happened this morning. She was only six when we were separated. I never saw her or Laila again.” He paused then, something changing in his eyes and his voice, something so soft it seemed foreign on this man who was so razor sharp rough around all his edges. “Sometimes I wonder what she looks like now, all grown up. If she got to grow up at all.”

 

He let the words linger in the air for a second. Then he shook his head before the bittersweet memories could creep up on him.

 

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I’ve never told any of this to anyone else.”

 

The something else in Dick’s eyes returned even stronger.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said.

 

“Don’t apologize, idiot, it had nothing to do with you.” Tiger said gruffly. The emotional moment was done with.

 

“No, I meant I’m sorry for bringing it up.” Dick said, unable to resist cracking even a small smile at the word idiot. They were back on track, it seemed.

 

Tiger turned to glare at the other man then. The something was almost all gone now, and Tiger could finally breathe again.

 

“I _just said_ don’t apologize!” He snapped and now Dick was grinning full force.

 

“Right, you did.” He said with a little chuckle. He stood up, clapping Tiger on the shoulder as he did so. “Come on Tony, let’s go back inside. You’ll wanna catch at least a few hours of sleep before you go-- you look _terrible_.”

 

All he got in response was a grunt, but Tiger followed him back into the apartment nonetheless.

 

When Dick woke up the next morning, Tiger was already gone. The pillow and blanket he’d been given the night before folded up neatly on the end of the couch. The blinds on the window were open and somehow the pale sunlight streaming in lacked any sort of warmth. It made the whole area seem even emptier than it was. Dick tried not to be too disappointed. It was shocking how quickly he could get used to having others around, no matter how briefly they were there. It was a testament to the fact that he’d grown up surrounded by people-- in the circus there had never been a solitary moment. The manor had been lonelier, but he’d still had Alfred for company at any given moment and his friends too. Dick didn’t do well living alone. There really was no reason for Tiger to have stayed longer, though, no matter how much Dick liked the company. Tiger was a busy man, he had a spy agency to run. And there was no way he would spend another minute longer than necessary in Dick’s presence. Especially not after that rough a night.

 

Hearing Tiger talk about his family was like something out of the twilight zone. Not that he was complaining, no, but… Dick really had no clue what could have possessed Tiger to tell him those things.

 

He’d said that Dick reminded him of his sister. His big sister who apparently practically raised him and who he hadn’t seen in years. Who he didn’t even know if she was still alive or not.

 

Dick didn’t know _what_ to think of that.

 

And there was no way Dick would be able to learn more now. The chances of another heart-to-heart like that were basically zero. Then again, he hadn’t though they’d have had that in the first place. No, if Dick ever tried to bring up what had been said last night then he was pretty certain Tiger really would kill him.

 

Dick shook himself of his thoughts and went about preparing for his morning class. Fitness studios don’t run themselves. Nothing worthwhile would come of dwelling on anything that happened last night. But even if that conversation would surely never be brought up again, things between Dick and Tiger had undoubtedly changed forever. Dick just had yet to figure out in what way they’d changed.


End file.
